


New Soldiers

by Spectre_Anon



Series: Out of the Fire [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, mostly focusing on how frustrating Junkrat can be for Soldier, other characters make minor appearences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectre_Anon/pseuds/Spectre_Anon
Summary: The Junker duo were quite possibly the worst potential recruits Jack Morrison could think of. However, now he's stuck with them. Whatever they may have been before they're under his command now, and somehow he needs to make this work.





	New Soldiers

**Author's Note:**

> I'd advice you to read my other fic 'gaining ground' before this, cos this involves events from there simply told from Soldier's perspective. I don't want to confuse people, or spoil things, so consider yourselves warned!

When Winston first dropped their files on his desk he'd thought it was a joke. A pair of chaotic fools, unrepentant, with a criminal record longer than his arm despite a relatively short spell of activity. He'd seen them on the news now and again. They actually posed for the security cameras on their heists, idiots. There was no way these could actually be considered potential recruits. He's nearly scoffed and tossed the files in the bin, except it wasn't like Winston to jest like this...

When he'd asked, the ape confirmed that he was indeed serious. It was with some horror that Jack Morrison was forced to review the information again with fresh eyes.

Mako Rutledge was worrying enough. The mountain of a man was ruthless, violent, and followed his accomplice like a looming dark shadow, ready to deal out death without hesitation.

And Fawkes... well, all evidence pointed to him being an unstable and reckless individual, leaving a path of fire and destruction in his wake. His obvious expertise with homemade explosives was worth noting, but that was nowhere _near_ enough to justify inviting him to the team.

“Winston knows what he's doing,” Ana remarked, when he'd voiced his doubts. “Fawkes has something Talon wants. We don't have the resources to chase him down ourselves, but if we invite him to join our side we can at least make sure it stays out of their hands. Besides, wouldn't you rather the two of them were here where we can keep an eye on them rather than out there running amok?”

She had a point, but that was how it had always been... him and Gabe, forever at one another's throats and Ana the voice of reason putting them back in their place. It was good to hear her again, but at the same time it hurt... it was just the two of them now, old soldiers falling back into their roles but with a piece missing... things changed, there was no returning to the past.

“I suppose you're right.”

“Of course I am,” she said, as if it went without question, “now stop scowling and talk it over, Winston won't take anything into his own hands, he's too nice for that, he's waiting for you to make a call.”

Amongst the potential recruits they'd compiled, those two were the ones Jack least wanted to deal with. However, he could begrudgingly admit the logic behind drawing them in. They needed firepower.

Lena had all but leaped to return once recall initiated, and Jesse had slunk back from whatever hole he'd been under. They had the climatologist, and Genji had promised to bring his brother back with him, though Jack wasn't sure how much faith he put in _that_... They had word that Angela, Reinhardt and Torbjorn were on their way but it was still a skeleton crew compared to what they'd been in the old days. They couldn't face down Talon without bringing in new guns. And they couldn't afford to be too picky about who they found.

Besides, Jack decided, he doubted the pair would have any interest in aligning themselves with Overwatch. He'd run through the motions because he couldn't argue with Ana and Winston on this one as much as he wanted to, but at the end of the day criminals like these ones wouldn't care what they had to offer, and so the matter would take care of itself.

It was some surprise, then, when their initial meeting proved him quite wrong.

They'd agreed to meet somewhere quiet but public, so Jack spent an hour waiting outside a half-rate cafe sipping more coffee than was reasonable. He was just about to give up when a pair of very tall figures approached.

They were wearing quite possibly the worst disguises Jack had ever seen.

There was no way to conceal the incredible bulk of Rutledge, and a trench coat certainly wasn't going to do it, nor was the hat much help when he was still blatantly wearing his distinctive pig mask. One of the two had glued a fake mustache to it.

Fawkes, for his part, wore a brightly coloured hoodie that at least hid his hair, but did nothing about the peg leg nor prosthetic arm. Why he thought glasses would somehow compensate for that Jack would never understand.

How had no one caught these two yet?

Fawkes's eyes flickered over him as he slurped loudly through the straw of the drink he'd brought along, elbowing his partner in the gut. “Looks like he's alone, don't seem like a trap to me. He's got a gun on 'im though.”

Rutledge grunted in response.

“Yeah mate, I know,” he said, limping forward before slumping unceremoniously into the chair opposite Jack. He sat there for a moment, slurping away and Jack got the impression he was still being studied, though Fawkes didn't so much stare as flash his eyes over him in quick little bursts, like the jittery yet attentive nature of a small bird.

His partner didn't both to draw up a chair, just stood behind his smaller companion, arms folded and presence warning enough without added threats.

“So,” Fawkes said, finally setting his drink down, “hear ya got a job offer for us.”

“That's right,” Jack said warily.

“What are we talkin' here? Ya got somethin' ya need stolen? Blown up? People ya wanna knock sense into? We do the whole lot, proper entrepreneurs, us. Bloke like you, I'm bettin' it's thievin' ya after, but I'll throw in the explosions for free.”

His voice was shrill and somewhat grating, prone to dipping low or diving high with no rhyme or reason, and the accent only made things worse. The sooner this conversation was done, the better.

“Not exactly,” Jack told him. “What I have to offer may mean any of those three, but this would be more of an... ongoing contract.”

“Ongoing, eh? Care to be more specific?”

“Have you heard of Overwatch?”

“Overwatch?” Fawkes said, with obvious surprise. He leaned back in his chair until it balanced precariously on two legs, scratching at his chin. “Yeah, yeah I think I remember somethin'... fought in the omnic crisis, right, until they got shut down years later?”

“Yes. And if I told you that they were starting up again, and looking for new recruits, would you have an interest?”

His eyes widened, his daft grin splitting his face. Then he laughed - more of a hyena cackle really – nearly tipping his chair over in the process, though he was saved by Rutledge. The larger man caught the back of chair and silently pushed it upright again, and as he rocked forward the shock seemed to sober Fawkes somewhat.

The grin, he could not shake, but the laughter died down. “Ya offerin' us a job? With Overwatch?”

“That's the idea, yes.”

His eyebrows furrowed, a half-smile still lingering as if he wasn't sure of himself. He looked confused. He looked contemplative. He looked lost. And for a moment, Jack remembered how young the fool actually was, it was only when his expression slipped to something so uncertain that some of that youth shone through. Twenty-five, and the product of a nuclear wasteland... yeah, he could see how that could lead to instability. And he almost felt sorry for him, for a flash, but then he remembered the wake of crime that was strewn out behind him through every country he visited, and any pity he felt died.

There was no excuse for it. The sooner he could get the pair of them to politely tell him to fuck off, the sooner he could get back to HQ and work on finding some actually viable recruits.

“It's a one-time offer so I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to decide today,” he said, in his no-nonsense tone. “One way or another, I need to leave with an answer. I can't tell you specific details, names or locations, but I can give a rough overview of the facility, what would be expected of you on missions, and your paychecks. If you have any questions, I'll answer if I'm able.”

He wasn't entirely sure Fawkes had heard him. The Junker fidgeted in his chair, hand tapping a beat on the edge of the table and staring off somewhere no one else could reach. Jack was just about to despair when he suddenly snapped to attention, a giggle slipping through his finger as he attempted to stifle it.

“Tell ya what, mate,” he declared, leaning forward conspiratorially, “ya got yourself a deal.”

“I... what?” Jack asked, fairly sure he must have missed something.

“This Overwatch shin-dig, sign me up! You'll come too, right Hoggy?”

Rutledge grumbled.

“Aw come on, it'll be fun!” Fawkes said brightly. “They ain't suits, and they fought omnics back in the crisis, can't tell me ya don't like the sound of that.”

The larger man let out a defeated sigh. “Fine.”

“See, what'd I tell ya? Anyway, mate, when do we start?”

Jack stared at the pair of them. “I haven't even explained any details and you already want to join?”

“Pfft, who's got time for details?” the man scoffed, waving his hands around vaguely as if he was brushing aside such concerns.

“You're serious? You _actually_ want to be a part of Overwatch?”

“Of course I am, when ain't I serious? Look... ya got a name of somethin', or am I just gonna have to keep thinkin' of you as 'old frowny bloke'?”

Jack scowled back at the grinning Junker, trying in vain to remain composed. They were supposed to refuse. They were supposed to make this quick and go their separate ways. But Fawkes obviously had other ideas. Try as he might he couldn't understand what he was thinking, it was impossible to decipher any meaning from the manically cheerful expression and twitchy behavior.

He decided the best thing to do was to be as plain as possible. “Commander Jack Morrison. Code name Soldier seventy-six.”

“Right, Soldier, gotcha. Anyways, I said I'm up for it an' I'm a man of me word. Ya want some firepower, we're the blokes for you! How much you gonna be payin' us again?”

* * *

 

And just like that, three weeks later the pair of them ended up at the base, adding to the number of new recruits they'd already managed to find. Jack was never certain why Fawkes chose to do it. Seemed strange to him for a man so chaotic to happily throw himself in with an organization focused on protecting the world... or maybe it was just a whim, or a ruse, surely not something that would last.

“Maybe he's decided to make a change, to right the wrongs of his past,” Winston suggested, ever the optimist. Jack just shook his head. Fat chance of that. Whatever Fawkes was after, he doubted it was redemption, people needed remorse for that.

He fully expected the pair of them to take off in the night, possibly after stealing or destroying something, but as the first week passed, and then the second, he found to his surprise that they remained a permanent fixture. And a permanent irritant.

It had been worse at first, of course, when everyone was adjusting to their presence. Rutledge was looming, and quiet, and if people kept their distance Jack suspected that was what the man wanted. Fawkes by contrast was loud, prone to getting in everyone's way, and completely oblivious to their attempt to disengage when he wouldn't shut up.

He was also skittish. He'd punched Reinhardt in the chest for slapping a friendly hand on his shoulder, though thankfully the big German was wearing his armor so it only hurt his feelings. Sudden movements, loud noises, anyone sneaking up on him - all of these sparked a reaction from him, and it made Jack uneasy. Fawkes struck him as someone burning a little too close to an explosion. It was dangerous, keeping someone like that under your command. They were unpredictable.

“I'm not a psychiatrist, Jack,” Angela told him scoldingly when he asked, “and even if I was, patient confidentiality is a thing.”

“You'd tell me though, if you thought he wasn't fit for duty?”

“He has his problems, but so long as he can handle himself during operations I don't think it's an issue. We just need to be aware he might react differently to things.”

“And what if you're wrong?”

“Then why bother asking me? If this is all this is about, I'm afraid I've got things to do. Do you want me to prescribe something to help you sleep while you're here?”

Jack opened his mouth to respond.

“Don't bother telling me you're sleeping fine, I'm a doctor, and even if I wasn't I can see the bags under your eyes.”

Jack turned away. “Just let me know if your opinion changes.”

It did get easier once people learned how best to skirt around him. He also received no complaints from the workshop, which was baffling. How on earth Fawkes managed to strike an accord with both Torbjorn  _and_ Vaswani he had no idea. Jack hadn't seen much of the architect, but his impression was of someone prim and proper, with a need for perfect order within her world and no tolerance for anything that dare threaten it. Fawkes was a threat if he'd ever seen one. Yet somehow, he carved a place for himself there.

He also began to finally pick up on some of the rules. Jack didn't think he'd ever had to enforce compulsory showers before, nor remind people what was not appropriate to set fire to, yet he found himself explaining a lot of unspoken rules since the arrival of the Junker. His partner seemed to understand some of civilized life, at least, but Fawkes, he suspected, barely knew what a knife and fork was.

Every time, he would growl out an explanation of how things were _supposed_ to work round here, and every time Fawkes would wear that stupid grin, and say something along the lines of 'sure thing mate, won't happen again, don't see what all the fuss is about'. And then a few days later he'd do exactly the same thing.

Of course, he always claimed he'd 'forgot', but Jack suspected that a lot of the times when Fawkes 'forgot' something, it was intentional. He would have thought it was all the time, except...

Except Winston (kindhearted ape that he was) had given him a jar of peanut butter to try when he heard Fawkes had never had the stuff. The junker had excitedly accepted the gift. Yet, a half-hour later he slunk back and attempted to stealthily return it to the stash. Upon being caught in the act, all he could do was apologies for stealing... stealing something he'd been given.

Sometimes Jack felt Fawkes would give him a damn headache.

Thankfully, time and repetition drilled some lessons into him. Others, though, he showed no interest in learning. There was a rebellious streak to him, and a penchant for mischief Jack did not have the patience for. Finding his coffee swapped out for some other mysterious substance, or a smiley face scribbled on his visor didn't amuse him at all, however much it seemed to delight the fool.

But he supposed... he supposed so long as he didn't blow their headquarters sky high and dance through the rubble it could be worse. He tried to remind himself of that every time he discovered the latest trouble left for him.

At least if you pointed him in the direction of whatever needed destroying he'd do his job, but following orders seemed to be a concept he understood only vaguely. Part of Jack wished he were even worse at it, because then he'd have ground to discharge him, but Fawkes managed to walk the knife's edge with remarkable tact, just useful enough to be worth the trouble. A constant thorn in his side, but he pulled his weight. That, at least, he could respect.

The rest, though, constantly tested his patience.

And yet, as time went on, he had to admit that a lot of Fawkes's trying behavior came down to a lack of mutual understanding rather than any maliciousness on his part. There was so much he simply didn't understand, social norms that went straight over his head, things that no one had bothered to teach him were wrong, habits he'd never had a reason to break...

Almost made him seem young, at times, especially when he had the overexcitable nature of a kid.

But he's not a kid, Jack reminded himself sternly, twenty-five isn't a kid... yet he remembered how uncertain he'd been at that age himself, how the overconfidence of youth and lack of experience had combined with the sudden crushing weight of responsibility that came with adulthood into a cocktail of rash behavior, confusion and disappointment. And he'd grown up with a home, a family, an education... he'd been taught about law and morality, finances, patriotism... not how to survive the outback, to flinch away from every touch, to tear through food like it might disappear at any moment...

That didn't excuse him though. A bad background didn't give anyone a free pass to bad behavior.

Fawkes needed to learn how things worked in an organization like this, needed to become a part of the machine, because a piece out of place could throw an entire operation into disaray.

“Give him time, he'll get there,” Jesse remarked. “Seems like the sort to adapt, that one, ya just gotta have a little patience.”

“He's had time,” Jack grumbled, folding his arms as he stared out at the view from the walkway. He didn't spend much time out here, always too busy, but Ana had told him to clear his head. The sunshine and the air at least was pleasant. Jesse smoking less so, but the guy was a willing ear at least.

“A few weeks. Nobody changes that quick. Can't say I wasn't a bit of a brat myself for the first few years, but I straightened out all right.”

“Never lost the hat though.”

“And never intend to,” Jesse replied, tipping the brim. “Lets just say I got a bit of sympathy for those with a troubled past. Not sure where I would have ended up if Overwatch hadn't taken me under their wing... wouldn't be having this conversation with you, that's for sure.”

“I don't think he's looking for a fresh start... don't know what he's looking for, really.”

Jesse took a lazy puff of his cigar, letting the smoke trail off in the faint breeze. “Well, whatever it is, he's trying. That's sure as hell got to count for something.”

Jack was quiet for a moment. “You need to quit those.”

Jesse smirked, taking another leisurely puff. “Sure thing, dad.”

“I'm not your father.”

Jesse just chuckled.

 

* * *

 

He'd had no problem adjusting the mission at Vaswani's suggestion, but Vaswani was the sort of person who arrived poised and perfectly spoken, with a list of reasoning to back up anything she claimed. And when Fawkes had barged in, he'd had no problem denying _him_ , because he was all boiling emotions and threats and pleading, and Jack was finally putting his foot down.

Maybe, quietly, he'd thought he'd been doing him a favor, that it was for his own good...

If he wanted to be part of the team, here was his opportunity to prove it.

The next thing he knew, a distress signal made its way through, and the mission was in tatters...

And Fawkes... Fawkes was in tatters too, barely clinging on...

 _It's your fault_ , a quiet part of Jack whispered, _you sent him out there, you didn't listen..._

He didn't know what he'd expected. Perhaps he'd thought that Fawkes would magically find his place in the well oiled machine he was trying to build, that everything would go well and it would all be a wonderful team building experience... except it wasn't, and now he couldn't help but think about what might have happened if he'd only done things differently...

But he couldn't doubt himself. Couldn't allow uncertainly to show, because that's not what Overwatch needed, they needed leaders who carried themselves with confidence, who were assertive and dependable. Nor could he apologize. He had made a decision, and to the best of his judgement it had been the right one at the time. If things went wrong, that was probably Fawkes's fault, he was always making problems.

That didn't stop him dropping by the medical ward, if only to assure himself the was recovering. The long, threatening stare Rutledge had sent his way was enough to make it a very short visit.

There were other things to worry about. Things like Hector, who's death had been no accident, even if the full story hadn't been uncovered.

Maybe that was his fault too... _you sent an unstable, explosive obsessed Junker out without his usual minder, when he warned you against it... what were you thinking, Jack?_

But doubt was not allowed, and it was far too late anyway. His own decisions didn't make up for Fawkes's actions. He might not have known Hector well, but he remembered him. He'd seemed like a decent man. Didn't deserve to die.

Jack didn't know whether to be angry or pleased over a week later when Fawkes was finally ready for debriefing, and he denied none of it. He'd expected lies. Come to anticipate them, really. Yet brazenly he admitted his crimes without hesitation and he might even have admired him for it if it weren't for the offhand way he spoke of murder, like it was simply to be expected. That only left him feeling cold.

And he supposed he might have lost his temper. Might have been a bit harsh. What was done was done though. Fawkes was suspended from active duty, which would give him plenty of time to recover from his injuries, and maybe even think about his actions.

Jack might have felt a bit more satisfied with the whole situation if the fool didn't keep grinning at him every time they passed each other in the hallway, like it was some personal challenge.

“You need to let it go, Jack, we've already passed judgement, you can't change anything now,” Ana told him.

Jack folded his arms, words cold. “He killed a man.”

“And you and I have killed plenty of men too.”

“Never _allies_.”

“Never?” she asked.

_Don't think about Gabe, don't think about Gabe, don't think about Gabe..._

“Never,” Jack said more firmly, and that was the end of that conversation.

He wished there was some simple way to solve the situation, to stop it weighing on him, to make Fawkes the good little soldier he wished he was. But if you pushed too hard, if you applied pressure before they were ready, they would not bend, would only break... he'd been too hasty sending him off on the last mission, and they'd both paid the price. Things took time.

He wished he had the patience for it. He wished, whatever Fawkes's reason for choosing to remain here, that they had the luxury of working through every one of his behavioral issues, but Talon was the more pressing concern and Jack needed to focus. He wasn't here to babysit. He was a soldier. If Fawkes ever became more of a danger than an asset, he needed to go.

It was a pity though, because Jesse had been right, he _was_ trying... and yeah he screwed it up more often than not, but Jack never would have anticipated this to be anything more than a distraction for someone like Fawkes. Never would have pictured him spending so much time in the workshop with the other engineers, or forming such a bond with the other youngsters, or... or all but blowing himself to pieces because it was the only way he could think to help. He was maddening at times, but what was most irritating of all was that Jack couldn't _quite_ bring himself to hate him. It was much easier when he was just a grinning fool in the news headlines. It was much easier when he was nothing more than a low life criminal.

Even thinking about it was threatening to give him another headache.

For now he would just have to keep a close eye on him. Fawkes had made his hatred for Zenyatta, their newest recruit, blatantly apparent, and the tension between those two had all the telling signs of another classic Fawkes problem. If he monitored the situation he could at least step in if things got too dicy. Ana and Winston were too forgiving to deal out proper disciplinary punishment. Jack, at least, trusted himself not to be so soft.

* * *

 

When Zenyatta called for immediate assistance in the early hours of the morning his first thought was that he'd been too late. Fawkes had obviously lost his temper, and if he hurt the omnic...

But as he raced to the coordinates he found Zenyatta unharmed, hovering at the cliff's edge besides the larger form of Winston.

Jack slowed to a jog as he closed the distance, relaxing slightly with no sign of immediate conflict.

“What's the situation?” he asked plainly, lowering his pulse rifle as he went to investigate whatever they found so interesting over the side.

“Fawkes went over, I'm afraid I haven't the means to retrieve him myself,” the omnic explained almost apologetically.

Jack's eyes went wide. “Over... as in down there?”

He stared at the dark water far below, jaw tensing as the seriousness of the situation hit him. That idiot... a fall like that, he couldn't even guarantee someone would survive crashing into the surface, let alone submersion...

“Winston, can you-”

“I'm going to get him,” the ape said, before he could ask, “Athena's just estimated the depth, it should be safe enough, I'll... he'll be fine.”

He took his glasses off, carefully folding them. “Look after these.”

The second Jack took hold of them Winston swung himself off the edge, scaling down the rocks with a grace he rarely had the chance to display. As soon as he was far enough down he turned, leaping away from the cliff and cutting the water with a clumsy dive. White spray dashed the surface. All too quickly it faded, wiped away by the gentle wash of waves.

Jack grit his teeth, forcing himself not to clench the glasses too tight, lest they snap. There was nothing for him to do except pace.

“Angela- I mean, doctor Ziegler, is she on her way?” he asked, the thought only just occurring to him.

“Yes, I contacted her immediately, along with anyone on duty.”

Still Jack paced.

“Patience,” the omnic assured him, “all will be well.”

Kind words, he'd used them himself before, when that was what he needed people to believe.

How long had they been down there? He hadn't been counting, and now he regretted it.

Wasn't like he could just throw himself off too, it would be too much of a risk and he'd probably only be getting in Winston's way. Jack did not like sitting on the sidelines though.

Finally, a dark shape broke the surface. Winston took a moment to gasp a few breaths in, before kicking out for the base of the cliff, something grasped under one arm. It was only when he swung the limp bundle over his shoulder and began to climb that Jack felt himself relax a scant inch. Fawkes had been retrieved. Good, that was the biggest hurdle out of the way.

When Winston finally pulled himself back up though he seemed uncertain what to do. He lay Fawkes down on the ground, stepping back with a tentative, fearful expression on his face, hands still hovering like they weren't sure where to put themselves.

The body was motionless, pale and dripping.

Jack went straight into business mode. He might not have been a medic, but he'd had enough first aid-training over the years he knew better than to just stand there.

Setting his rifle down and passing Winston his glasses back he knelt beside the unresponsive form, pressing two fingers to his throat in search of a pulse. Something light fluttered beneath the skin. Not healthy, but it was a pulse, and a damn sight better than no pulse. Good.

Breathing, on the other hand, seemed to be a negative. He let the training take over, pinch the nose and lean in for a few breaths- and suddenly Fawkes stirred. Tried to suck in air of his own. And coughed, and spluttered, and Jack quickly guided him over into the recover position and let him handle the rest himself, hacking up seawater between gasps.

Jack sat back on his haunches, drawing a tired hand across his face. This was not how he'd hoped to spend the morning.

At least Fawkes was alive. He wasn't doing much besides lying there and breathing but maybe that was for the best. The golden glow from one of Zenyatta's orbs hovered above him, a reminder of the omnic's presence. How much it actually helped Jack wasn't sure, he understood that Zenyatta's power was more spiritual than medically based, and he'd never been much of a spiritual man himself. Maybe it was better to ask the omnic to leave once Angela arrived. He was just about to voice the thought when Fawkes stiffened, then immediately lurched upward.

He swayed where he sat, eyes unfocussed, mouth slightly agape and wet hair plastered across his face, and Jack suspected he was barely conscious at all.

“Lie back down and keep still, Angela is on her way but you don't want to worsen anything before she gets here,” he warned, exasperated.

Fawkes made no response, nor any sign he had heard at all.

Deciding to take matters into his own hands Jack took a firm grasp of his shoulder and attempted to ease him back down.

That got an immediate response. Fawkes flinched away from the contact, attempting to distance them as he bared his teeth in a snarl, the threatening stance of a cornered animal. Alarmed, Jack remained frozen where he was. The motion must have thrown Fawkes's balance off though, because before he could formulate a proper response the Junker wavered, and promptly toppled over.

He lay on his side, the perfect picture of misery.

“Is he alright? Given, uh, the circumstances I mean?” Winston asked.

“Alright enough to disobey orders,” Jack muttered, though if he was entirely honest with himself he couldn't help but worry. 'Not dead' was a long way from 'okay', and Fawkes was absolutely not okay.

Even if he was semi-concious he seemed kitten weak, and his breathing was ragged, too fast, his body shivering uncontrollably. And despite all that... despite all that, his first instinct was to try to get up, to pull away from those attempting to help him and to snarl, to try and make himself a threat in any way he could, as pitiful as the attempt was... and Jack had not been quite prepared for it. It was one thing to hear about it, and another thing to see that wild desperation first-hand, a painfully telling response.

_Damnit Fawkes, why do you have to be such a problem?_

At least Zenyatta had the presence of mind to remain silent, Jack doubted his help would have done anything but aggravate the situation.

Again, Fawkes tensed, then managed to haul himself upright through what seemed pure force of will.

“Um, maybe it's best if you just take it easy for now?” Winston suggested, with a hopeful expression, which naturally went ignored. Jack almost felt bad for the guy, he'd saved the fool's life and his concern and desire to help was all too evident, but neither of them were equipped when it came to dealing with the mess that was Fawkes. Winston simply hung back awkwardly, adjusting his glasses in nervous habit, not bothering to shake out the water still clinging to his fur.

Jack couldn't do anything. He couldn't _make_ Fawkes lie back down, man-handling him was out of the question, and there was no way he was going to listen to him right now even if he yelled. His only option was to crouch close by, ready in case he seemed in danger of toppling over again. Making sure he remained stable until Angela arrived was all he could offer. If he went into a panic he had no clue how to respond.

Angela was a medic, she'd know what to do. Besides, she'd dealt with Fawkes before, he'd be more familiar with her and she'd have a good handle on what might set him off.

Jack watched as Fawkes turned his head in a slow arc until his eyes latched onto the hovering form of Zenyatta. He just stared at the omnic for a moment, as if taking a few seconds to fully process the sight, then his eyes narrows to slits. He sat, shaking and sodden, still swaying slightly but glaring with as much intensity as he could muster, and Jack had no doubts the look was intended as a threat. The best he could scrounge up at the moment.

Zenyatta made no comment, simply remaining as calm and unassuming as possible.

It was the stupidest standoff he'd had to witness, and he wished he could just tell Fawkes he was being ridiculous and to just lie back down, but it was a lost cause, the fool was too stubborn and too on-edge to listen to anything but whatever his messed up brain was telling him.

Mercifully the sound of hurried footsteps signaled the arrival of Angela. She picked her way quickly across the uneven ground and crouched in front of Fawkes, cutting off his view of the omnic.

“What's his condition?” she asked, as her eyes assessed her patient.

Zenyatta spoke then, rattling off a quick list, and she gave a nod of acknowledgement.

“Alright. Jamison, I'm going to have to check a few things which means I'm going to have to touch you, do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Fawkes croaked out weakly, though it looked like his mind was elsewhere. He let her check him over though, offering no protest, seemingly dazed. But he was following her instructions and making no aggressive moves, which was good, he was at least able to recognize she meant him no harm.

In her capable hands it appeared the situation was under control.

Letting out a sign, Jack got back to his feet, ready to deal with the aftermath.

He tapped his earpiece, making contact with Athena. “Send out a message to anyone Zenyatta contacted, let them know there's no further need for assistance.”

“Yes, commander Morrison,” the AI responded pleasantly.

That done, he turned to Winston. “You should go get yourself dried off, don't catch a cold.”

The ape looked reluctant, still watching the shivering form of Fawkes. He must have understood his helplessness in the situation though because his shoulders slumped, and he murmured a faint, “Well... I suppose so.”

Jack watched as he lumbered off, and sighed again. “Winston...” he called out after him, waiting until the large ape turned. “Nice work back there... don't think there was an easy way we could have got him back without you, colour me impressed.”

Winston looked bashful, stammering out his usual 'oh it was nothing' kind of response, but he must have caught something on Jack's face because he stopped part way, and changed tact. “I mean, um, thank you, Jack.”

Jack gave him a nod, and Winston nodded in return before departing, just as Jesse stumbled out onto the cliff top. “Aww hell, what did I miss?”

“Nothing important,” Jack informed him dryly, “didn't Athena let you know we have it covered?”

Jesse was surveying the scene, no doubt taking in the sight Fawkes soaking wet and shivering on the ground with Angela fussing over him. “Uh-huh. Figured I'd go see for myself, you never know.” He scratched at his beard for a moment. “Think they have one of those insulatin' blankets nearby, see if I can find one.”

Jack saw no reason to argue with that.

Rutledge was the next one to come barreling through, and he was smart enough to stay out of the way. Immediately the large man went over to his downed partner, but as he approached his movements slowed slightly, less threatening and more cautious.

Angela spared him a momentary glance. “He's alright for now, not in any immediate danger. I'll take him down to the med-bay soon to heal what I can and make sure there are no further complications.”

Rutledge made no reply, but he appeared at least partially satisfied with this. He positioned himself close, a further barrier between Fawkes and anyone besides the doctor, watchful and brimming with the unspoken threat of violence.

When Jesse returned with the blanket he wasn't quite brave enough to drape it over Fawkes himself. He opted instead to pass the offering to Rutledge, since getting any closer seemed impossible, and let the giant of a man take care of it before he swiftly retreated.

Zenyatta still hadn't moved, remaining as unobtrusive as he could and Jack wondered if it was intentional, if he was going to stay put until Fawkes was gone, lest his attempt to depart himself drew attention and unwanted distress.

It was still strange, Jack thought, to find the incident involving the two of them... Zenyatta had never actually said how Fawkes ended up going over the side, only indicated that he had. Had there been a confrontation before? There didn't seem to be any signs of a fight, but now the danger was over with the details seemed more pressing.

He tried to seem only curious about it when he asked.

“He was admiring the view when I came up, I fear I must have startled him for he lost his balance and fell. It was entirely my fault,” the Zenyatta said smoothly, hanging his head low as if with guilt. “I should have left when I realized he was here.”

It was impossible to read his expression when the omnic didn't have one.

“You're sure that's what happened?” Jack pressed.

“Of course,” he replied, “why do you ask?”

He wouldn't put it past Fawkes to make an unprovoked attack on the omnic, but with no sign of a fight nor explosives that didn't appear likely, and it was too far out of character for Zenyatta to try the same. Nor did he see any reason for him to lie. No, this was just Jack being paranoid.

He sighed. “No reason. But I trust your word, and you shouldn't blame yourself. It was an accident, and you called for assistance as soon as it happened. Fawkes may well have slipped even without you here and then no one would have known before it was too late.”

“That would have been most unfortunate. Perhaps it is best if he remains inside for a time?”

“Not a bad idea,” he agreed. If it kept Fawkes out of trouble he was all for it. He was supposed to be taking it easy and recovering, not finding new ways to injure himself. But Fawkes would never make things easy -for others, or for himself.

But damn it, some part of the fool was trying, and so long as he was Jack supposed he owned it to him to try as well. Whatever he had been before, Fawkes was under his command now. He couldn't beat him into the shape of a proper soldier – no, Jack was quickly learning that was never going to work – but maybe, just maybe, he could keep him from disaster.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to the two people who asked about Soldier's perspective, cos I never would have written this otherwise. It kind of ended up way longer and self-indulgent than it should have though. While he's not one of my favourite characters, it's always interesting to take a look at things from another pov.
> 
> Also! If anyone is willing to maybe proof-read/beta-read my main fic (gaining ground) and possible other one-shots please let me know! I don't really have anyone at the moment, and it would be a big help to cut down on mistakes and polish things up a bit.


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